


One of Four Ways Gaston Could Have Died

by Kelyon



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen, Giant Spiders, Spider-Rumple, fic-on-fic crossover, grisly murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27596558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kelyon/pseuds/Kelyon
Summary: After making a new home in an island jungle, Spider-Rumple is annoyed by Gaston for the last time.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	One of Four Ways Gaston Could Have Died

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Four Ways Gaston Could Have Died (and the One Way He Actually Did)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27451546) by [xiolaperry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiolaperry/pseuds/xiolaperry). 



> So this is a "guest chapter" for Xiolaperry's "Four Ways Gaston Could Have Died (And One Way He Did)." That's a series of alternate endings for her fic "The Piano." In that fic (among other things) Gaston is a terrible person who deserves to die very gruesome deaths. One of the prompts was for him to be killed by the Spider-Rumple from Nephila. Xiolaperry asked me if I wanted to write that, and I thought it would be a jolly good time. Enjoy!

The jungle is different from the cave. It is wet and warm. Still dark, under the trees. He builds his webs in shafts of light. Prey comes out of the darkness. Prey does not see gold threads in gold sunlight. 

He eats well in the jungle. 

****

He had to leave the cave. It was too large, too empty. It was too quiet, without the sound of his young scurrying around. 

He let his young go. When the strong winds came. When his young wanted to see what was outside the cave. When he was too afraid to go with him. His young went outside to build a web. But then the winds came.

And he was in the air. 

And he was in the sky.

The small web billowed out around him.

And he was gone. 

He let his young go. His young, who was so small and weak, who was so smart and brave. He could not kill his prey with a bite, but he could set traps and keep prey alive so it would stay fresh. He talked easily, like his mother.

He called him Papa. 

When his young was gone, nothing was the same. Prey didn’t taste good anymore. There was no joy in spinning webs. The cave--his cave--was strange and bad. It was too empty. Too full of memories. 

So he left. 

He did on purpose what his young had done by accident. On a windy day, he went outside of the cave. He made a web, but didn’t attach it to anything. The woven gold hung loose in his arms. 

Then he tossed the web up. And the wind caught it. And he was in the air. And he was in the sky. 

He didn’t know where he would go. It didn’t matter. Perhaps he would find his young. Perhaps he would float in the air forever. Perhaps he would fall into the dark water below him and be eaten by something even bigger and more fearsome than himself.

By the time he started falling, there was green land in the midst of the dark water. Mountains and jungles and human towns. He landed on top of the trees. Quickly, he scuttled down into the darkness. 

The darkness was familiar. The shadows, the hiding places. There was much to eat here. Birds in the air, birds that walked on the ground. Lizards and bats and large insects. He ate, and he lived, and he made a new home.

****

He wakes to the sound of stomping boots.

Two types of humans come through the jungle--quiet humans, and loud humans. The quiet humans are dark and careful. They blend in with the jungle as much as he does. They step softly and do not disturb the prey. He lets them pass.

But the loud humans are a nuisance. They are white as grubs and cover their bodies with bright false skin. They come through in noisy boxes pulled by large animals. Or they march through his jungle like it is theirs. They hack and slash at the plants with long metal arms. They cut down everything in their way. They talk the same language as his young, as his mother. But they are all so loud! They scatter the prey and they  _ annoy _ him. 

This human is the most disruptive of the loud humans. He has come through before. A big hulking male. He shouts instead of talks. He barks like a dog and brays like a donkey. 

He pushes his way through the jungle. He acts like it is the jungles’ fault that he has to walk through it. The humans have made a road around the jungle, but this brute is avoiding the main way. None of the other humans want to talk to him.

None of the other humans will miss him when he’s gone. 

The webs are built. The traps are set. He waits, hidden in the treetops. There’s nothing to force this human into the path that will end in his death. Nothing but his own stupidity and pride. 

If he took the road. If he looked at where he was going. If he wasn’t such a noisy fool who thought he knew everything. Then this human would walk out of the jungle unharmed. 

Instead, he plows through the undergrowth. He rushes from the darkness to the light and he does not see the golden web. 

It tangles in his face and he wipes it away, stumbling blindly into another web, another shaft of light. 

The human stops altogether, disgusted by the silk that now covers him back and front. He heaves his metal stick into the trunk of a tree and tries to clean himself up. 

That is the last mistake he ever makes. 

Faster than the human can comprehend, he casts down another web from the treetops. It falls like a net over the human. Stunned, the human raises his hands. But he cannot escape.

“What the  _ hell _ ?” he shouts.

The human flails his meaty arms and that is when the attack comes. 

He drops down from the treetops. He spins his thread around one of the human’s arms. The human reaches with his other arm, reaches for the metal stick that can cut through the trees and brush. The stick  _ could _ cut through the web. It could even cut through his legs and into his shell. That stick could be the death of him.

But the human can’t reach it.

He tries to pull away from the web. He tries to walk, but his legs are bound. Silly human even tries to hop but he falls to the ground. He can’t get up. He’ll never get up again. 

The human fights and struggles against the web. He makes useless noises. He grunts and screams in the way of every creature that knows death is coming for them. 

The human wriggles in the dirt like a worm.

His front legs lift him up, bring him close.

The human’s mouth is silent. Too afraid to scream anymore. His pale eyes are wide with terror. The eyes reflect what the human sees: A monster, dark and terrible. Two eyes meet eight and the human lets out a whimper. Now his eyes reflect the mouth.

The smile.

The fangs.

He bites the human in the neck. He gulps the first rush of blood as it gushes down his throat. The human roars with the pain and he feels the vibrations as he drinks. 

Once the blood has ebbed, he lets loose his venom into the human’s body. It works slowly. The human keeps trying to fight. But the cocoon is wrapped tight around him. He cannot move. Soon, he cannot even keep his two eyes open. 

He spins the human into a neat, golden pouch and takes him back up to his web. The venom will keep working its way through the human’s blood. It will turn all his flesh and organs into liquid. He can drink it slowly over many days. Savor it. How long will the human stay alive in his cocoon? Will he know that he is being devoured, drop by drop? Can he even imagine what kind of creature will suck the very marrow from his bones?

He always eats well in the jungle. 

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously, this fic isn't exactly "canon" to the main story of Nephila. But the way Spider-Rumple lost Spider-Bae is pretty much how it happened.


End file.
